


Of Cuts Deep and Shallow

by fleet_of_red



Series: The Simple Act of Saving You [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Daddy Issues, M/M, Sexual Tension, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 09:18:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleet_of_red/pseuds/fleet_of_red
Summary: Follows the comic ending of "Under the Red Hood" where Batman sliced Jason’s neck to stop him from killing Joker. With such injuries, Jason barely escapes with the help of his one-time mentor, Slade...who is surprisingly upset on his behalf.“You don’t owe Batman anything. Not your death, and not your life…”Jason finds Slade’s reaction discerning and...intoxicating.





	Of Cuts Deep and Shallow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SladeRobinWeek2018 
> 
> Inspired by the prompt "Rescue"

  
  


The blast from the explosion smashes Jason against a pillar of the abandoned suite, disorienting him. A mixture of scorching smoke and dust fill his lungs and he chokes. This is it, this is how he’s going to die, again, with Bruce just barely out of reach. Except, this time, Batman might actually be the cause of his death. 

Jason presses against the wound on his neck to try and stem the bleeding, but his fingers are starting to feel numb. He can’t see how deep the cut is, but there’s enough wetness running between his fingers to soak through the top of his shirt. In the distance, an entire section of a drywall crumbles, triggering another wave of falling debris. 

How does the joke go again? A Bat, a clown, and a little zombie-bird go into a bar, and none of them come out alive. In a way it’s fitting, the three of them perishing together. Jason wants to laugh, but he doubles over coughing instead. Blinded by the smoke, he can only gasp in surprise as a hand reaches out to fling him over a broad shoulder and out of the collapsing building. 

Even after all that--their brutal fight, Batman’s refusal to right past wrongs, and his near-fatal attack--a part of Jason is still glad that Bruce came for him. But that brief moment of elation is soon followed by disgust for himself. 

“You’ve seen better days, kid,” the gravel voice points out as a man sets him down on the ledge of a building a few blocks away from the initial explosion. A lone eye peers down at him through a familiar mask.  _ Oh. _ It wasn’t Bruce, after all. 

“S-Slade?” Jason stammers. 

“Stop talking, you’ll go into shock if you lose any more blood,” Slade shushes, and proceeds to grab a military grade field dressing from his utility pouch and presses it against the slash wound on Jason’s neck. “The adhesive agent should stop the worst of the bleeding.” 

“How deep is it?” Jason wants to ask, but a sudden wave of nausea turns his world upside down and he groans instead. A steady hand holds him upright. 

“Y’know kid, you’ve bulked up since we last met, not so easy to fling around anymore,” Slade jests with a smirk. If Jason were more coherent, he would be able to see past that and detect a level of concern underneath Slade’s casual tone. Unfortunately, he has enough difficulty just keeping his eyes open. 

“B-Bat…?” Jason tries to turn towards the smoke, but the view of the blast site is blocked by buildings in the way. Is the building still standing?  _ Did Bruce make it out alive? _

Slade ignores Jason’s half-spoken question and continues, “How long has it been since we last met, hmm? Almost a year?” He usually isn’t this talkative, but he keeps engaging Jason in conversation while patting him down, checking for injuries that require his immediate attention. 

“Hey kid, you listening? Fuck--” 

Jason can feel himself slipping as the world dims in front of him. He welcomes the darkness.  

  
\---

  
  


The next time Jason opens his eyes, he half expects to see the dark interiors of a coffin, but it is only the blank ceiling of a dim room. 

With a grunt of pain, he braces his arm over what appears to be a sectional couch and sits up. He looks around the unfamiliar living room and listens for signs of anyone nearby: there are none. He stares at the bloody bandages and other first aid supplies on the coffee table next to him before standing up on shaky legs. 

Someone changed him out of his battle gear and into a plain shirt and pants. He looked around for his weapons and found the guns along with his kris blade and the rest of his equipment conveniently placed on the floor of the corridor leading out of the living room. 

Moving gingerly, he walks to the restroom with an arm braced against the wall the entire way. He bends over to takes in gulps of water from the faucet before facing his own reflection in the mirror. His face is ashen except for splotches of dark bruises along his jawline and cheekbones, and dark bags under his eyes. 

“You look like shit,” Jason murmurs before lowering his gaze to the cut on his neck, currently covered by a large 4x4 adhesive pad. 

For a moment he stares at it. Then his fingers find the edge of a corner and pick at it until he can slowly roll the dressing up. Midway through, he sucks in a deep breath and rips the entire thing off with a flick of his wrist. 

The hideous mark stands out in relief against his pale neck, and the sight took his breath away. The congealed blood forms a dark red, almost black ridge on his skin, and he runs a shaky finger over it, feeling the rough texture. It’s worse than he thought. 

Had Batman...had Bruce meant to do this? To come this close to killing him? The batarang had missed his jugular by mere centimeters. Jason shivers. 

“I just changed your bandage,” an annoyed voice behind tsks. “Go sit down, you shouldn’t be moving around just yet.” Slade appears behind him holding a paper bag with groceries. Underneath a casual coat, he’s wearing what could pass for a civilian’s winter attire.  

“Thought you left,” Jason shrugs and regrets the movement. Every word out of his lips hurts. He can feel the shifts in his muscles tugging at the cut on this throat. 

“I went out to get you food for the next few days,” Slade explains, walking past Jason to the small kitchen adjoining the living room where he first woke up. He places the paper bag onto the counter and proceeds to organize an assortment of ready-to-eat food into the fridge as well as a box of obnoxiously-colorful cereal in the cupboard. 

_ Seriously,  _ how old do you think I am? Jason thought while staring at the grinning mascot on the cereal box with indignation. He lets that go with a roll of his eyes and asks, “How long was I out?”

“Just over a day.”

“Are we still in Gotham?” 

“Yes. But don’t worry, this is one of my safe houses. It’s secure, he won’t find you here.”

“So he’s alive then? Batman?” Jason asks, taking care to make his tone neutral. 

Slade regards him with a tilt of his head. “Why do you care?” 

The young man looks away with a clenched jaw and doesn’t respond. Slade shakes his head and says, “News reports didn’t find any bodies at the site of the explosion. So, yes, I presume Batman is still alive. The clown as well.”

Jason takes a moment to take in the information.  _ Bruce is alive. _ He deflates back onto the couch and asks the man in the kitchen, “And you just happened to be in the neighborhood, Slade?” 

“So many questions, and not even a ‘thank you’ for hauling your ass out of that fiery mess,” Slade shakes his head. “Ever the polite one, hmm?” Jason replies with a scowl. Slade finishes putting food away in the kitchen and joins him in the living room.

“It’s a job. Talia al Ghul figured it had to be you who started disrupting Black Mask’s trade in Gotham, so she paid me to observe and report back without interfering...unless absolutely necessary. And I’m guessing saving your life falls into that category.”

_ Talia. _ Jason could have guessed that his benefactor would want to keep an eye on her...investments. “So how long have you been spying on me?”

“Long enough,” Slade retorts. “Now come here before you bleed all over the couch.” He kneels down on the floor next to Jason and grabs a new dressing pad and disinfectants from the coffee table behind him. 

“Hold still.” With firm, but not ungentle fingers, he tilts Jason’s chin to the side to better see his neck. Jason yields to his touch but winces when Slade dabs an alcohol soaked cotton ball over the cut. Slade’s expression is dark as he stares at the wound, even as his fingers move swiftly with precision to apply the new dressing. 

“Talia’s paid me to bring you back, once you’re done in Gotham,” Slade states. At this range, and with Slade’s fingers still holding his face in place, Jason couldn’t turn away from the eye studying him.  

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes, she was explicit about that.” 

“Then no,” Jason replies, lowering his eyes.  

Even the thought of seeing her again now makes his stomach churn. By now, Slade would have told her the outcome of his battle against Batman. She would have realized that the pet project she spent years and countless resources on just went up in flame. 

‘Make me proud, -T’ she had signed in her last email to him. Talia, Talia with her soft skin and firm touches. She had looked at him like he was someone with potential. Someone worthy. Someone wanted. Jason shoves the mental image of her away with a slight shudder.

She’ll already be focusing on other projects and machinations now, that’s who she is. She wouldn’t be angry with him per say, at least, she wouldn’t say it outright. And he can see it now, that look of disappointment in her face as she looks beyond him, dismisses him with a nod. Shelves him. 

It would never be the same again, not with sparkles in her eyes as she listens to him babble on about all the new skills he’s learned and the untested potential he shows. 

“There’s no going back for me.”

Slade nods once without asking for clarification and stands up from his kneeling position. Jason points to the kris blade in the corridor along with the rest of his gear. “Could you return that dagger to her?” 

The blade, fashioned after the one her father, Ra’s Al Ghul, had carried. It served him well, but he doesn’t deserve it anymore. 

“She never mentioned this,” Slade considers for a moment, “So unless you have the funds to pay me to deliver it for you, I’d suggest you hold on to it.” 

“Forget it then.”

“Well good, this works out. I’ve had tentatively accepted another job after making sure your condition was stable; if I leave soon, I’ll have time to complete it. The food should last you a few days,” Slade gestures towards the kitchen, reminding him. “Feel free to stay in this safehouse while you recover. I won’t be back for it.”

Normally, Jason would have interjected his speech with some snarky comebacks, perhaps one about Slade double-booking jobs, but he’s uncharacteristically quiet, and his face remains impassive. Slade prods him with a low chuckle and adds, “And don’t worry, I’m well compensated for it.” 

“I’m sure you are, Deathstroke,” Jason mutters without real heat and lowers his eyes to the ground. With great effort, he swings his legs onto the couch and lies down across it. He stares at the ceiling with a blank expression.

So that’s that. No more pouring himself over intricate plans of shaking up the underworld of Gotham, no more plans for the dramatic reunion with Bruce nor the confrontation with Joker. All his efforts have led him here, but there’s nowhere else he needs to be and nothing else he needs to do. Not anymore. 

The feeling of exhaustion seeps into his bones and Jason feels hollow. A kite with its string cut off. He closes his eyes. 

“You should’ve left me there to bleed out,” he whispers into empty air. Slade frowns but remains silent.

“Or...better yet,” Jason continues with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “I should’ve told Batman that he needed to kill Joker or I’d shoot myself in the face. If he won’t kill me to save Joker’s life, what about killing him to save mine?”

Jason doesn’t expect a response from Slade and he doesn’t get one. He feels surprisingly calm and collected as if he’s seeing things with clarity for the first time. “Yeah, that would’ve been better. Even if Batman still wouldn’t cross his fucking line, at least it’d be a clean death, by my own hands.”

Slade leans forward over the couch, placing his hands on either side of Jason’s head, effectively trapping him. Jason stares at the eye inches away from his as Slade growls through gritted teeth, “You don’t owe Batman anything. Not your death, and not your life. Not after what he did!” Jason’s eyes widen in surprise. 

“I would have killed Joker without a second thought if  _ my _ dead son would come back home. I’d kill Joker a  _ thousand _ times over just to see my boy one more time.” His voice lowers to a rough rumble in his throat. “You don’t owe Batman  _ anything _ .”

Slade grips the arm of the couch so hard Jason can hear the wooden frame creak behind the fabric. The tension hangs heavy between them, and then something bursts through the dam. 

Maybe it’s the way Slade hovers over him, close enough to feel the heat radiate from his body, or the guttural way he said those words, or even the way his eye shimmers with an unspoken emotion that makes Jason’s heart race.  

He leans up and closes the short distance between them and presses their lips together. 

Slade’s lips are dry but they parted slightly in surprise as he kissed him, and Jason can feel the hint of his wet tongue just behind them. He thinks he can get drunk on this feeling. 

He simply lets his head drop back down to the couch when they broke the kiss, both of them breathing heavily. “What the hell was that?” Slade glares with furrowed brows.

“Umm...a kiss?” A giggle almost escapes Jason at the absurdity of hearing those words spoken out loud. He can’t believe he did that--kissed  _ Slade _ \-- during a moment of temporary insanity. But already, Jason wants to kiss him again.

Apparently, that wasn’t the answer Slade was looking for. He grips one of Jason’s wrists in warning. “Why?”

“B-because…” And Jason is at a loss for words. As much as he tries, he doesn’t quite understand it himself. The sudden and overwhelming need for Slade to  _ see _ him. To be the subject of that fervor. To be burned by the intensity of it. To be consumed by it. 

Jason sucks in an unsteady breath and tries again. 

“Because I want you to fuck me.” 

Slade blinks. He studies the young man lying on the couch beneath him as Jason clings onto his arms. “What’s gotten into your head, kid?” 

“C’mon, give me a break!” A flush creeps up his face and Jason twists his lips into a scowl, “I almost  _ died _ , remember? Maybe I just want to fuck!” 

“With your injuries? You’ve lost a lot of blood.”   
“Jesus, I’m not--I’m not asking you to  _ choke _ me or whatever kinky shit you do, I just…” He whines with exasperation and runs his fingers through his hair. “It’s fine.  _ I'll  _ be fine. I can take it--anything you give me.” 

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Seriously?” Jason scoffs, slightly offended. And suddenly, the memory of Talia’s firm hand around his neck, pulling him towards her floods into his mind. His breath hitches. 

“With a man?”

Jason side-steps the question with a hiss, “Dammit, Slade, you really gonna make me fucking beg?” He raises a hand to cup the side of Slade’s face, “I mean...I’m not completely undesirable,  _ am I _ ?” 

_ Fuck. _ Jason meant for the sentence to come out as a light-hearted, self-deprecating joke to lighten the tension. Those words came out full of yearning and self-doubt. 

_ Is it too late to say this is all just a prank? _ He cringes inwardly and bites his lips so he won’t say anything else to further embarrass himself. 

Slade covers the warm hand on his face with his own and ponders. 

Objectively, Jason is an attractive young man. Sure, perhaps he’s a little rough around the edges in a feral way, but Slade appreciates the fierceness, even if he knows the bark is worse than the bite. And he was appealing in a way beyond mere appearances even back when Talia first asked him to train the kid. There was something captivating about him--not that Slade would’ve initiated anything back when he was under his charge. 

But now? Now with him all wide-eyed and breathless looking up from underneath him, his face flushed and barely containing his eagerness...Slade he can feel himself stirring already.  

He brushes a stray strand of hair off Jason’s face and traces his knuckle over the side of his bruised cheek. Somewhere underneath the metallic scent of blood and gunpowder, there is something undeniably the young man. He wants more of it. With forearms braced on either side of him, Slade leans down and reclaims those lips. 

Jason shifts in surprise but soon deepens the kiss with a soft moan. 

Slade can picture it in his mind, how he would take it slow, be gentle so Jason’s healing cuts won’t tear open. He’d stretch him with his fingers, prepare him so thoroughly Jason would beg for him again with impatience and need.

Yeah, he could teach the kid another thing or two, Slade thinks with lust and fondness. And as he fills him so deeply in a way no other man had, perhaps, for a brief moment, Jason would forget about his demons. 

His demons with bat-shaped wings. 

_ Damnnit. _ Slade breaks their kiss with an obscene wet pop and leans back onto his haunches. He steels himself and says through clenched teeth. “Ki--Jason, I can’t be what you want me to be right now.”

“Wha-what are you talking about?” Jason, lips still red and puffy from their kiss, frowns in confusion.

“You don’t really  _ want _ me right now. You just want a distraction...a lifeline. I’m not it. I can’t be.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s not-- _ I’m _ not--” but Jason stops and twists away like he was slapped across the face. 

“Would a fuck really make you feel better about having lost your purpose? Your drive? You lost to Batman in every way that matters, you need to confront that head-on. Then, move beyond it.” 

Jason shakes his head in disbelief. “Fuck, seriously? You’re lecturing me  _ now _ ?” He grips Slade’s shirt in a tight fist, hands shaking in anger. 

“Fuck you! You have...you have no idea! How the hell could I move on?! The reason I trained so hard these past few years, the reason I  _ lived _ was so I can confront Batman again. I must’ve run a hundred different scenarios on how our reunion would play out, down to our very conversation!” Jason knows he’s laughing hysterically with tears running down his cheeks now, but he can’t stop.

“I even thought it’s not  _ impossible _ that he’d kill the clown and...and even  _ apologize _ to me for not doing it sooner!” His voice drops to a whisper, “And then..we’d just...go home. Together.”

“But that’s not what happened, was it?” Slade says, giving Jason’s shoulder a soft squeeze. “There’s no point in thinking about all those possibilities. Batman made his decision. It might not be one you’d like, but that’s not something  _ you _ can change. Don’t destroy your future for a past you wished had happened.”

Jason tries to shrug away the hand on his shoulder, but Slade pulls him in instead, holding him tightly to his chest. He hits Slade with the palms of his hands, but he doesn’t let go. Despite himself, Jason starts sobbing again, in heavy heaves that shook his whole frame. All his fury and fear and hurt all bundled up together into a heavy current he cannot stop. 

His nails dig into Slade’s arms, but he doesn’t seem to mind the pain. Slade just wraps his arms around Jason and feels him come undone. 

It feels like an eternity had passed, but when the sobs eventually fade away to faint sniffles, Slade looks down at him. “Kid, the world is bigger than Gotham. Bigger than Batman. You’re strong, you’ll come back from this. I’m sure of it.”

Jason feels empty, a lightweightedness that, unlike the emptiness he felt earlier, comes with a sense of peace, calm. The rawness of a million cuts scabbed over into silver scars. For a moment he is quiet, then a smile slowly blossoms onto his face; a shield. 

He jeers, “Come back from what? Your rejection? I don’t think I’ve ever been refused quite like this, you fucking cock-tease!” He bats Slade’s arms away and lets out a dramatic sigh. “I don’t know if my poor, bruised ego could recover from a cut this deep!” 

Slade chuckles with a shake of his head. “Tell you what...ask me again when that wound on your neck heals. If you haven’t changed your mind then, I’ll be more than happy to fuck your brain out.”

“Pfft,” Jason sneers with a slight blush, lifting the corners of his lips. “We’ll see.” 

For a while, they sit side by side on the couch in comfortable silence. 

“Didn’t you say you need to leave for a new job soon?”

“Yeah. In a bit.” Slade confirms but doesn’t move from the couch. “It’s an easy contract all things considered, but one that requires my presence...” He trails off. 

Jason has to bite his tongue to keep himself from asking if he can tag along. Why not go play mercenary for a while, explore a new place, earn some money. But the question never comes.  

Instead, he leans his head against Slade, who shifts slightly to make it more comfortable for them both. He looks out the window, and even with the curtains drawn up, Jason can see the faint highlight of the Bat signal in the air above Gotham’s night sky. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/fleet_red) and [Tumblr](https://fleet-of-red.tumblr.com/)


End file.
